


Untied (The After Party Remix)

by daroh



Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: 2017 Camelot Remix, After Party, Anal Sex, Awards, Blow Jobs, Camelot Remix, Fluff, M/M, NTAs 2012, RPF, Sex in suits, brolin - Freeform, ntas, sex in mirrors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-11 13:23:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11149311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daroh/pseuds/daroh
Summary: After one too many awkward interviews at the 2012 National Television Awards after party, Bradley and Colin get in a taxi. They're all dressed up with someplace to go—home.





	Untied (The After Party Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [altocello](https://archiveofourown.org/users/altocello/gifts).
  * Inspired by [After Party {fanart}](https://archiveofourown.org/works/407807) by [altocello](https://archiveofourown.org/users/altocello/pseuds/altocello). 



> The fic takes place just after this interview, of Brolin-fan fame: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e1YCC2BJ28I
> 
> Altocello, you were the most amazing creator to be assigned to remix for! You have so many pieces that I wanted to write about! I hope you like something of what I've done here! You're an incredible artist and an inspiration. 
> 
> Thank you to my steadfast friends who cheered me through this and read, beta'd, and Brit-picked-- especially skitz_phenom, Ememmyem! I couldn't have done it without you!
> 
> I revisited lots of Bradley/Colin fic and art to write this, and am indebted to the work of Mrs_Leary (Julie), junkshop_disco, and altocello, of course, especially. http://archiveofourown.org/works/528108 and http://archiveofourown.org/works/1527653 are particularly relevant. (Velvet Colins, always.) Thank you, all! 
> 
> DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. I do not know these actors or anything about their real lives. I've just used them as characters in an imaginative work. No harm or offense intended.

They tumbled into the cab, laughing and light from the drinks at the National Television Awards after party.

Colin was more buzzed than he was, Bradley knew. He’d watched him accept one glass of wine after another from the waiters, letting people reel him into their conversations, then drifting out of them just as easily.

Bradley’d been in awe of his seemingly effortless charm, and he’d hoped it wasn’t obvious how closely he’d been following him with his eyes the whole night.

They’d agreed to play it cool, not stay as glued to each other as they usually did, since there had been too much documentation of them together of late (video footage at the Con in France, photos from the night at the Young Vic, and even reports of them in Armagh over the holidays), but Bradley wasn’t good at playing it cool when it came to his actual emotions. He marveled at Colin’s ability to seem so breezy and unattached.

He marveled at Colin in general. 

Colin gave the cab driver his address, being as friendly and flirtatious with him as he’d been with everyone that night. The cab driver didn’t seem to notice, though, nodding vaguely at the destination and then resuming a conversation with dispatch. 

Colin leaned back in the seat and smiled at Bradley, as if he hadn’t just been trying to charm the pants off yet another person.

“Is there anyone you won’t flirt with?” Bradley asked, reluctantly admiring the long-lashed gaze Colin had turned on him. He’d hoped that being in the cab would be like finally having Colin alone again, but of course Colin couldn’t just treat the driver as a driver, like anyone else would. 

“Is there anyone you won’t be rude to?” Colin said with a teasing smile.

“I’m not rude,” Bradley said, though they both knew that was hardly true. In fact, he was usually keenly aware of his own rudeness, yet somehow unable to stop the flow of it, even when he wanted to. It could pain him terribly, though now wasn't one of those times.

“You were rude in that last interview.”

“Well, of course I was rude to that guy. He was shamelessly flirting with you.”

Colin’s smile widened. “So?”  
  
Bradley raised an eyebrow. “ _So_? I was right there! _And_ you were flirting back!”

“I was not,” Colin said, but his smile was coy enough to acknowledge otherwise. It stretched across his whole face, half genuine joy, half turned-up charm. He’d been smiling so much, Bradley thought his cheeks must hurt, but if they did, he showed no sign of it. He seemed too happy to mind anything.  

“Oh, you weren’t?” Bradley asked. “‘ _Give it a tug_ ’? What the hell was that?”

Colin’s laugh burst out of him, and he bent forward with the force of it, despite the cab picking up speed as it broke away from the bottleneck around the O2 Arena. “You want to? Give it a tug?” he asked between bellows of laughter, gesturing to the bowtie he’d enticed the interviewer with.

“Absolutely not,” Bradley said.

Colin laughed again, then made a show of composing himself, sitting up properly and straightening his shoulders. “Look, I’ll show you how it’s done,” he said, his voice a deep whisper, the brogue thick enough to be almost put on. He lifted his chin and leaned over, his jaw millimeters from Bradley’s face.

Bradley watched as Colin’s long fingers pulled slowly at each end of the bowtie, drawing it out like a line of silk beneath his Adam’s apple, which gently pulsed up Colin’s exposed neck in a way that had to be intentional.

Bradley swallowed dryly, wishing he’d had more than just wine himself at the party. “You’re a shameless flirt,” he said, with no real power in his voice. “I should’ve let you two sail off into the late-night telly sunset.”

“As if you could, James,” Colin said, relaxing his posture and shoving lightly against him.

And Bradley knew he was right. The last few weeks with Colin had been the best of his life, and he wasn’t about to let anything get between them, least of all some nitwit presenter full of flattery and “don’t you look dapper”s. Of course they looked dapper! That was the point of awards shows, obviously. “Idiot,” Bradley said under his breath. Colin probably thought he was talking about him. Bradley wasn’t about to correct him.  

“You know he only said nice things to me because I’m the approachable one,” Colin said, his mood apparently unmarred by Bradley’s.

“Thanks, that helps a ton.”

“No, I mean,” Colin said, and somewhat shyly (which didn’t make much sense, considering all the sex they’d been having, _finally_ having, during this hiatus) leaned in and placed a kiss on Bradley’s cheek. “I mean you’re too gorgeous for people to comment on. You don’t tell stunning people they look stunning. It’d be ridiculous. Plus, you’re obviously too stuck-up to merit a compliment, whereas I’m just a regular bloke who cleaned up a bit for a party, and people can say, ‘Hey, look at you! You’re not looking half-bad tonight,’ and it’s no big deal.”

Colin looked far better than “not half-bad,” but Bradley wasn’t about to tell him that. Not right now, when he clearly knew it. “Stuck-up?” 

“Mm-hmm,” Colin hummed. He seemed rather pleased, not just with his own comment, but with everything: his buzz, the awards show (despite _Merlin_ not winning), the attention from everyone (even if Bradley was sure Colin was only aware of about a quarter of it), and certainly his own cuteness.

“I guess you go in for that sort of thing. Or are you just using me for my ‘stunning’ good looks?”

“Oh, I go in for all of this,” Colin said, waving his hand up and down and up again, indicating the whole length of Bradley’s body. Bradley felt a knot tighten in his stomach at the gesture, an easy flick of Colin’s wrist encompassing the scope of his whole being. He felt owned, but if it was Colin doing the owning, he wanted it, would always want it.

He sat frozen, not sure where he wanted the conversation to go, but Colin put his arms around his neck. His eyes flashed to the driver, probably checking for his continued disinterest in his passengers, and then back to Bradley’s. He leaned in for a kiss, his lips already parted, moist and reddened from alcohol and the coyish biting of them he’d been doing all night.

 _God, he’s been like walking sex the whole night_ , Bradley thought— _the scruffy, chiseled jaw line, the impossibly deep dimples when he smiles, his hair looking sex-messed for no reason (and of course he looks well fucked and fuckable all at once when he lets himself relax), and that fucking velvet tux that’s just begging to be petted and manhandled_.

It was true that in addition to being velvet, the suit did amazing things for his long fame and graceful muscles, and he must’ve known it. He’d been charming to the nth degree without trying to be. It was as if all his stars had aligned, with none of his jokes going awry, none of his smiles unreturned, and Bradley was somehow lucky enough to be the one going home with him. He’d caught the rarest of Colins—the confident, laughing, dastardly sexy Colin. He couldn’t help but fall under Colin’s spell, but also a little outside of it.

Colin’s kiss was wet and hot, and not at all how he would kiss him in a cab at any other time, even in these heady weeks of their finally coming together. Bradley let his hand cup Colin’s jaw, and he almost trembled with the strangeness and the wonder of being with him. He was like everything in one: all the friends Bradley could ever need, all the sex he could crave, and something even more profound, because Colin was very selective. He hadn’t just been lucky enough to be here with Colin (beautiful, sloppily drunken-kissing Colin in a half rumpled tux, Colin who tasted like champagne and daring promises); Colin had chosen him, above all other people. Bradley could weep from the knowledge of it, if he weren’t also alert to its precariousness. Everyone wanted Colin’s attention, and someone would eventually earn it. Maybe not Mr. Dithering Green Interviewer, but someone—someone who wasn’t an arsehole in interviews, or too stuck-up to pay even the smallest of compliments to. 

“Hey,” Colin said, breaking the kiss and pressing two fingertips to Bradley’s chin. “What’s wrong?” He nipped at Bradley’s lower lip with his own, sucking it lightly before letting it go. 

Bradley’s breath caught at the loss of the kiss. “Nothing,” he said. “Just glad we’re heading home.”

“Me, too. I can’t wait for you to get me out of this suit.”

“Maybe I want to keep you in it.”

Colin raised an eyebrow. “Kinky.”

“Maybe,” Bradley said. “Maybe you just seem in rare form tonight.”

Colin’s eyes wandered over Bradley’s face as the cab slowed at yet another traffic light. “Maybe you make me this way,” he said softly.

Bradley smiled. It was a nice thing to say, and he hadn’t expected that.

The fact that it was nice didn’t make it true, though. “No, no,” he corrected. “You’ve got this going on all on your own. I’m just lucky enough to be here for it.” He brushed a wave of hair behind Colin’s ear, only for it to bounce back again.

“Is that what you think?” Colin said, his voice a whisper.

“I know it. The whole place had eyes for you; you’re glowing. Hell, you’re just oozing sex and charm and talent, and this dash of roguishness that you don’t often let out into the world. And your eyes look so blue they’re like...you’re like something on _fire_ , Colin. It’s insane.” Bradley’s fingers kept tugging gently at Colin’s hair as he spoke. He was awestruck, and maybe more drunk than he’d thought.

Colin scoffed, but he nodded his head sideways, as if in some agreement. He had to know he seemed otherworldly tonight, and not just in his usual Merliny way, but as if the moon itself were following him around in worship. Bradley couldn’t explain it any better than that. He felt like he was more in Colin’s orbit than with Colin right now.

He leaned in to renew the kiss. He wasn’t going to waste a night with a supernova-Colin, already tipsy and pliant and wanting _him_ , somehow. They both moaned a little as their lips met, as if any other words would be as stupid as the ones he’d just said.

He knew the cab was nearing Colin’s flat, which was a relief, but also a bit disappointing. The lull of the car’s movement, the slow passing of lights across the windows had been conducive to how he was feeling. The flat would be theirs alone, and they’d likely get quickly involved in sex, which would be amazing (GOD he couldn’t wait to have Colin tonight), but for now, the cab prevented that spiral into a desperate chase to get each other off. They could kiss and tease each other, and maybe Bradley could confess the stupid things he was feeling.

“I love you,” he let himself say.

Colin’s eyes opened and his gaze held Bradley’s. “What have you been drinking?” he asked. He shook his head as the cab pulled up to the curb. “Come on. Let’s go upstairs.” He took Bradley’s hand and pulled him out of the cab.

“Wait, I didn’t pay—” Bradley said, but Colin was already leaning back into the car, handing the driver some notes.

“—and thanks so much. Cheers,” he heard him say, polite as ever.    

They took the lift up to Colin’s floor and walked to his door. He felt more nervous than he had in weeks, but all he wanted was to be alone with Colin again.   

Colin hadn’t spoken to him since they’d gotten out of the cab, and he’d seemed very composed. Once inside the flat, though, he pushed Bradley back against the door, his hands on either side of Bradley’s face, and he kissed him, hard. He pressed the length of his body along Bradley’s, rolling his hips to let Bradley feel his hardness. He moved his hands to Bradley’s neck and down his chest, and he planted kisses all over his face.

It was overwhelming and good, and Bradley felt himself slipping wholly under Colin’s power, like every kiss and press of Colin against him was pushing out of all of his worries and doubts, his ridiculous self-sabotaging narrative that Colin must’ve known he had running in his head.

And Colin knew how to handle it, how to handle even this about Bradley, his neurotic worrying about the inevitable not-being-good-enough, about being left and alone, even though he was supposed to be the arrogant golden boy who needed nothing but an entourage and a pretty girl now and then. But Colin knew that wasn’t him at all. He needed this. He needed Colin.

Only Colin knew this much about him, and only Colin had ever cared to know this much, to understand it right.  
  
Bradley’s knees were hardly working under Colin’s ministrations, and he had to be almost carried into the bedroom, which turned out not to be a problem. Colin made Bradley’s weight seem like nothing. He got them to the bed with such effortlessness that Bradley decided for the millionth time, that he really was a bit magic.

Colin was undoing the buckle of Bradley’s belt and said, rather breathlessly, “Bradley James, you fuckin’ idiot.” Bradley was too aroused by Colin’s face in his crotch to really worry about whatever the scolding meant just now. He let his head fall back on the bed.

“Yeah?” he asked, hoping Colin wouldn’t interrupt his handiwork just for some name-calling.

“Yeah.” But there was no chance of that. If anything, he seemed more determined than before to get Bradley’s prick free of his trousers and pants. He didn’t undo anything more than was necessary; Bradley even still had his shoes on, but his cock was straining towards Colin’s open mouth.

Bradley wanted to see, and he tilted his head up to take in the view. 

Their suits _were_ pretty dapper, and the sight of his swollen cock pressing out from his dark slacks, his tie, loosened, but still hanging around his neck from a thick knot, his shirt still buttoned up most of the way, would almost be too much to take, if not for the sight of Colin with his pupils blown large and wanting, his lips parted, his bow tie undone but his velvet tux still hugging his long, lean limbs. He looked like walking sex, Bradley thought again, and he had Bradley’s cock at his lips. Bradley groaned and let his head flop back again. 

“Yeah,” he repeated, stupidly.

He felt a full swipe of Colin’s tongue around the head of his cock, and it made him shudder. “Oh my god,” he said. “So hot.”

He had to look again when he felt Colin’s mouth close on his shaft. His eyelashes were glistening, and he sank down slowly, taking all of Bradley's cock in.

It was unbelievable, as if sex itself were a man who strolled in from Northern Ireland in a velvet tux, with gorgeous cheekbones, a plush mouth and the most complicated, well-protected soul in the world. And he was here, with Bradley, lavishing his cock with sultry sucks that could easily have brought him off if he kept it going for just a few minutes more, but he pulled off before Bradley was too close to really protest.

“Right,” he said, bringing a velvet-clad arm up to wipe his mouth on. The movement was hotter than it had any right to be in itself, Bradley thought. 

“Yeah?” Bradley asked, not knowing what the “right” meant.

Colin smiled. “Still stuck on that word, are you? Must be good.”

“Yeah,” Bradley said, then laughed, still lying on the bed with Colin kneeling between his legs. .

“I’ve been thinking about doing that all night. All. Fucking. Night. And it’s hell to stop, but I know you have fantasies of your own here. It’s not the NTAs every night of our lives.”    

Bradley wasn’t sure what to say. He had many, many fantasies about a velvet-suited Colin, but now he was feeling differently, less like he needed to prove something.  

“That’s what you were thinking about all night?” he asked.

“Yes, you idiot.”

Bradley smiled, something like molten fondness spreading in his chest. He loved knowing that he lived in Colin’s head, too, that Colin was busy with a Bradley in his mind while he was milling around an awards-show after party, being the hottest it-boy of the moment.

“And all that rubbish you said to me in the cab? About glowing and all that?” Colin said.

Bradley nodded, a little hurt at Colin’s easy dismissal of his heartfelt speech, but at least it wasn’t getting in their way. The sex had stopped, but it promised to continue, judging by Colin’s hands pressing on Bradley’s thighs.

“Katie said basically that same exact thing to me, but about _us_ , that we were glowing like a pair of lovestruck idiots, and that the whole world was going to know about us, if they didn’t already. She said the ‘honeymoon’ was obvious.”

“Honeymoon?” Bradley echoed. “That’s ridiculous,” he added, even though he knew it sort of wasn’t. Sometimes it seemed like they couldn’t stop grinning at each other if their lives depended on it.  
  
“That’s what I told her, but she just rolled her eyes and said, ‘Okay, Col, but you know I’m right. All you need are some literal fireworks behind you and you’ll be the couple at the end of a Disney movie’. She used the same stupid fire analogy you did!”

He felt the worst of his doubts slipping away at the words, as if Katie having seen that between them made it real. It wasn’t just him seeing all that in Colin; he was included in it, part of the picture, and everyone else was outside of it.

“Did you just giggle?”

“I did,” Bradley said, getting up and adjusting himself back into his trousers.

“Hey! I wasn’t done with that!”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Bradley said, feigning neglect, now that he wasn’t feeling it.

Colin scoffed in shock. “I was trying to tell you that you’re an idiot. That I love you so much it’s visibly absurd, and you know that, and you know waltzing through a party is fun with a few drinks and the prospect of us actually going home together afterwards.”

“In fancy suits.”

“In fancy suits. And a bowtie, which I wore specifically because you told me to.”

“Yes, a very tuggable bowtie,” Bradley acknowledged, pulling Colin up. 

Colin kissed him then, and moved his hands beneath his jacket, but Bradley stopped him. 

“Wait—my fantasies of the night. We’ve only hit one so far, so we can’t get undressed yet.”

“I knew you were dying for my mouth on you,” Colin said, triumphant.

“Not that, although that was pretty spectacular,” Bradley said, letting one hand press from the nape of Colin’s neck into his hair.

He kissed him, wet and hungry and distracting while walking him awkwardly backwards into the bathroom. His hand was fisted in his hair like he’d wanted it to be all night. He felt so happy he was turned on with it, not just for Colin, but for them.

He broke the kiss, a small smile playing on his lips. “You said ‘I love you’ back.”

“Of course I did. I’m not an arsehole.”

Bradley tilted his head to look him full in the face. “You waited a half hour to say it back.”

Colin shrugged. “I’m a bit of an arsehole."

“Thank god for that,” Bradley said, then resumed his kissing of Colin’s neck.

Colin kept talking, though. He was always good for that. “Why? You like arseholes? I mean, I know you like mine, but—”

“Because I can’t be the only arsehole in this relationship, and we need some common ground, you know.”

“Apart from the glowing, you mean?”

Bradley studied Colin for a long moment, the stunning features, the guileless expression, the open joy in his eyes. It was beautiful—blessed, even, if Bradley believed in that sort of thing.

He turned him around, still keeping him in the warm circle of his arms, so they were both facing the full-length mirror that hung a little crookedly on the back of the door. The bathroom was decidedly less fancy than their suits, but it matched their otherwise messy appearances, with their rumpled hair and somewhat wrecked expressions. It was small, like the bathrooms in most London flats, and it had Colin’s towels from his mum’s house hanging on the rack. The dull tiled floor was strewn with their clothes from earlier, but that made the whole scene feel even more perfect. It was their home, and there they were, these two men who had somehow made it from the corners of their respective acting classes in Glasgow and London, all the way to the NTAs, and to each other.

They looked at themselves in the mirror. Bradley’s hand started working Colin’s belt and trousers open.

Colin giggled. “You want to fuck me while we watch? That’s more arrogant-actorish than I thought possible, even for you!”

“I don’t have to if you don’t want," Bradley conceded, "but I like seeing you, and I want you to see you, too. See us."

He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Colin’s neck. He angled his hips so his hardness pressed against Colin’s arse. He found Colin’s freed cock with his hand and gave it a strong-fisted pump. Colin groaned and leaned back into Bradley’s body, an imperative to keep going. 

“This does look pretty filthy,” he said, slightly panting already, “all wrecked and debauching these suits.”

“I don’t think you debauch clothing.” Bradley’s hand kept pumping, while his other arm held tight around his chest. 

“I’m gonna debauch mine in a minute,” Colin said, pushing up into Bradley’s fist. “And it’s a fucking rental.”

Bradley looked at the nape of Colin’s neck, then kissed, licking beneath the collar of the suit jacket and shirt. He licked a line up to his hairline, and it tasted a little musky and salty, the remnants of his cologne tinged with sweat. He kept his hand going, and he hoped Colin kept watching, seeing what Bradley had seen: Colin, brilliant and radiant and coming undone with him, in his arms.

“Oh my god,” Colin said, letting his head fall back on Bradley’s shoulder, his eyes staying focused on the mirror. “So fucking hot.”

“You are,” Bradley said, pressing his tongue hard against the tendons in Colin’s neck, letting his teeth graze there, loving the feeling of strain everywhere in Colin’s body.

“Look, look,” Colin said, and Bradley looked up and rested his chin on Colin’s shoulder. “Katie was right. We’re ridiculous.” He let out a little laugh, but it was swallowed by a moan of pleasure as Bradley’s thumb slid over the head of his cock, smearing a bead of precome over his long shaft.

Bradley sighed, also caught between amusement and insane arousal. He thought he might come just like this, rubbing through several layers of velvet and cotton against Colin’s hard, perfect behind. “We might be a few watts brighter than usual,” he said, admiring how the fluorescent light caught the streaks of gold in his own hair.  

“You’re a fucking sun god,” Colin panted with a laugh.

Laughter burst out of Bradley, then, too, unexpected, and hardier than Colin’s, as usual. “What have _you_ been drinking?” he asked. He felt on fire to his core for love of this man, of their ridiculous way of being together, of the magic between them, the magnetic pull that had them frotting in front of a bathroom mirror at two in the morning, laughing and in love, and so ready to fuck.  

Colin pushed his trousers down enough to expose his arse. “Wine. Lots of wine,” he answered. He grabbed lube and condoms from the cabinet.

Bradley undid his trousers enough to free his cock, but he was careful to watch that they sank only just over his own round cheeks in the mirror.

He squirted a generous amount of lube on his fingers and began circling Colin’s puckered hole, more slowly than he wanted to. He pushed a finger inside, relishing the tightness and heat, and groaned with Colin at the feel of it.

Two fingers later, Bradley was tearing open the condom with his teeth, then rolling it onto his too-hard prick. He’d gone through so many emotions tonight, and he was glad they hadn’t finished messing around as soon as they’d come in the door. He felt reassured and whole, happy, and wanted them, together, to feel every ounce of pleasure they could, to see all the stupid specialness of the night. They hadn’t even won an award, but who cared? They were glowing, and everyone knew it. He wasn’t alone, he was with Colin, and they glowed, like two idiots in a cheesy movie.

He lined his cock up and breached Colin’s hole, sinking into the wet heat slowly. He’d been holding Colin’s bare hip with his right hand, loving the feel of his skin, when he heard Colin say, “The velvet.”

“What?” Bradley ground out, too overstimulated to breathe properly through the word.

Colin moved Bradley’s left hand onto his velvet-clad arm. It felt strange and good and a little wrong, like Colin shouldn’t be wearing it, but that made it even better. He remembered how key the velvet was supposed to be in all this, and he smiled. _Velvet-shmelvet_. He squeezed Colin’s hip a little harder.

As he pushed all the way in, he let his hand roam over Colin’s ribs and chest. He watched in the mirror, paying attention to the feel of the fabric and the warmth underneath it, the plush smoothness of rubbing one way, and the titillating friction of backtracking his caress. He was enjoying every inch of Colin in his clothes. He’d been untouchable like this for the whole night—hell, for years, really, until very recently—and now he could be here with him, pushing in and out of him, almost painfully slowly, and touching him all over in his _fuck-me_ velvet suit, with his legs that went on for miles, spread out to grant him access, and his chest that was flat and hard and perfect, rising and falling under the pressure of Bradley’s hand, and his hair looking well fucked because now, Bradley was fucking him.

Colin was biting his lip hard, and he seemed to be struggling to keep his head off of Bradley’s shoulder, but his eyes were transfixed by the snap of Bradley’s hips, just visible in the mirror.

Bradley noticed what caught his attention and angled them so Colin could see a bit of his cock when he would pull mostly out. Colin shuddered like the sight was sending new pulses of heat through his body. Bradley watched Colin’s cock twitch in response, and he put his non-velvet-molesting hand around the shaft again to pump him through it.

Colin moaned, his knees giving out as he crested over the edge, more quickly than Bradley had expected, but he couldn’t blame him. His eyes were almost tearing from how turned on he was. He held Colin in place, stroking him through his orgasm, the hot spurts of semen coating his hand.  

“God, Colin, you were so ready for it.”

“It’s the fucking suit,” Colin said, trying to catch his breath. “I feel like I’m made of sex in it.”

“You are,” Bradley said, and quickened his thrusts, Colin’s awareness of his own lewd appeal making the whole thing almost unbearable. He couldn’t last much longer.

He looked in the mirror at Colin’s wrecked expression, at the depth of the black velvet of his jacket, at his undone bowtie, at his panting mouth. It was filthy, and it was just for him—them. He pushed in once, twice more, and then he was coming, hard.

He rode out his orgasm leaning over Colin, burying his face in the velvet of his back. “Oh my god,” he said, letting the final waves of it roll through him. “Colin.” The velvet wasn’t as soft on his face, but the burn of it felt good, kept him grounded through his needy shuddering, as he held tight with both arms.

“I know,” Colin said, and there was a slight laugh in his voice. Bradley raised his head to look in the mirror at what was so funny. They looked ravaged but blissed out, and bent at an awkward angle to accommodate their own reflection.  

“We’re fucking idiots.”

“I know!” Colin said, his voice almost squeaking with unexpected enthusiasm. He sounding like he thought that was the best revelation of the night yet, and Bradley was inclined to agree.  

 *

After they’d got ready for bed, Bradley hung up their suits, kissing the sleeve of Colin’s and thanking it for a lovely evening. They climbed beneath the sheets and settled into the shape of a single, solid spoon. Bradley was always nearly smothering him with cuddles, he knew, but he couldn’t help it, and Colin didn’t seemed to mind. He even cooed into it occasionally, as he did tonight.

“Wonder what it’d be like if we actually won,” Colin said.

“Guess we’ll just have to find out next year.”

Colin nodded sleepily. “Mmm, next year.”

Bradley pressed a long, soft kiss into the dark mass of hair and whispered a little _thank you_ there, almost inaudibly.  

 


End file.
